Impulsion
by The.Clown.That.Smiles
Summary: It's always spontaneous.


Disclaimer - I own nothing.

Well, this is my first time writing on the Dark Knight, or ever writing on anything else other than what I usally write on, so I am not sure how well it is.

Constructive criticism is welcome.

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><p>The hooker strayed on the street corner, face slapped up in etiolated varieties of bright colours, luminous even beneath the pool of shadows that she became concealed under. The torn faded red dress had long lost its colour, now bathed in shades of grey, dark splotches of blood from when she had received a hit from her pimp, or grime from leaning up against the walls of the leaking warehouse for too long. She could have been pretty once, but the sins and darkness of Gotham had turned her into one of those lost souls, faded like a recorded tape, or the shine that has long disappeared from a thick, curtain, of dark black hair.<p>

Nails were chipped, the varnish peeled back like flakes of paint being scraped from a wall, all out of shape, and bitten and worn. The warehouse had once been the place she had brought people too, all from the cheating husbands who couldn't get what they wanted from their wives, from the kids who scraped up their savings and paid for a blow job, or from one of the junkies who needed a little something more than a fix. She didn't really care who they were, because as long as she got the bread at the end of it, they could do what the hell what they wanted. Fuck her in the ass, let them have a hit for another ten dollars, or forcefully ram her mouth around their cock. Whatever they wanted, they got as long as she got the dough, and her pimp was satisfied.

They called her clown, or sometimes the colourful whore, but now a new clown had occupied her little fuck place, in return of the pimp, not straying far from where she stood, getting some cash. They never asked questions, and she longed cared to know.

Only now it was having her ass getting scraped up against the wall as she got fucked there in the alley instead. But a whore like herself didn't moan, because it all came down to money, and not having her throat slit for doing anything other than whoring.

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><p>Past the creaking pipes, and down the long grungy walls of the tunnel, the entrance to the mouth of the warehouse was nothing but a small shine of light to those who looked from the steel doorway. Rats occupied the sewage watered tunnels, big, blunt, teeth nipping on what semed to be pieces of flesh to seeing eyes, and green, ozzing, gunk, dripped down the concrete wallings, forming a long stream of gew across the ground. And behind the sounds of the creaking pipes, and the scurrying of the rats, a hum of some sort of carnival tune danced its way through the warehouse, echoing in a long, unbalanced, and out of tune rythm, a loud, shattering, errie, laugh following not long after every pause came, before the tune started up again.<p>

''See, what's we're going to do...Ah, ah, ah, I can see your mommy didn't teach you manners either.'' Another laugh was given, then hushing sounds, all chattery, as if the voice was nervous somehow. ''It's what I like to call...experimentation. See, I pick up this pencil, or brightly colourful and glittery...Do you like it?

''I don't know.'' A sob was given, metal clinking together.

''You don't know? You don't know!'' Footsteps moved, a snapping sound forming after. ''I'm like that. I don't know why I like dynamite and toys. I don't know why I like doing this game.'' It went quiet, and crouching in front of the girl strapped into the chair, the Joker leaned close to her face, cherry, red, lips curving into a wide grin, exposing yellow, dirt filled, teeth. ''But I do, I really do. See, its all about madness. Everything comes down to that, because everybody is mad. It's like a clock ticking in your head.'' He cocked his head then, tapping his fingers against his scalp. ''And the madness starts to set in when the clock slowly stops ticking.'' Grabbing her fingers, he pressed them into his head. ''See, mine has stopped.'' He laughed like a deranged, crazy, man. ''Everybody is mad. It all turns to explosions, and bright lights, and the cutting of the blade through flesh.'' He stopped. ''I can see your clock is still ticking.''

Standing up with a loud clap of the hands he turned away from her for a second, before swiftly turning back around, causing the ends of his purple jacke to billow slightly. In his hand was a small clock, and he shook it slightly, eyes moving back and forth as he started to shake it from left to right. ''There's my clock.'' Shall I get your's for you?''

A tremble of the lips was given, a shrinking back as he waved a knife in the air, the swooshing sound coming with it. ''It just takes time for the madness to kick in''

Laughing manically, he moved the knife towards her, hands shaking. ''Are you afraid?''

She whimpered, a long nod coming.

This caused him to stop, that grin to stretch wider. ''Good A little fear is always good. It just makes everything more fun''

The humming of the carnival tune started up again, and the knife disappeared, before he came out with sweets in his hand, all shiny blue, green and red wrappers. ''Would you like one?''

There came no answer, only a small sob.

''You shouldn't. Candy rots your teeth.'' Pushing a hand through greasy hair, the joker unwrapped one, and she jumped startled when he laughed with bouncy movements, feet tapping slightly against the ground like he was a child on a sugar rush. Only underneath the shiny wrappers, it wasn't sweets, but rusty, blackened, razors. As he grabbed the back of her neck, he pushed the razor into the side of her mouth, earning a terrified sob, eyes wide with fear and unshed tears.

''You never questioned my scars. Not many people do. But maybe, maybe if I give you my look, they might question yours.''

He paused, watching her closely with that same grin, and the laughter visible in his eyes. ''No, that just wouldn't do.''

''Why are you doing this?''

''Why? There is no why. Why never comes into anything. I do these things because I just do. It's spontaneous, and nothing but games. Reasons never come into it. we all go crazy at some point''

''I'll be fair, because I can be a fair person. What I'm going to do is get these dices...'' Two red dices were produced from his coat pocket, and she looked down at his open hand, before looking back up at him. ''If you get a seven you go, and if I get a twelve, well, I don't know what will happen''

And then she watched when the dice hit the floor, and her heart fell when they stopped, the two sixes clearly visible.

''I'll give you another go.''

They were thrown again and a cry did come when she saw they were sixes once again.

The Joker laughed maddeningly. ''Loaded dice. Today, I don't play fair.''

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><p>Oh, I seriously hope I did not make him OOC, as I fear I have done. I tried to just create him crazy, bringing a lot of shades from out of the movie, instead of whipping up something new and fresh from my imagination. I know it is rather short and pointless, but I was just juggling on how well I can write him, instead of writing a oneshot very long and meaningful. He truly is a hard character to write, but still, I hope he is IC, at least not appallingly OOC.<p>

And I think I need to mention that the sweets thing I got from a movie called Candyman, which I doubt many of you have heard of.


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